


Whipped cream and coffee don’t mix

by orphan_account



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Basically this is an, affectionate satire of rom-coms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3525212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm done with this, I'm dumping in the raw, unedited stuff I have finished and then orphaning it. Sorry.</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Sam sees him is a rainy Wednesday afternoon a week into first semester. Sam’s in the back of the cafe, cleaning up after the lunch time rush when he walks in. Sam’s not sure what it is about this guy that catches his eye. The cafe is a 5 minute walk from campus so frazzled uni students aren’t an uncommon sight around here; even students that look like they could burst into tears at any second don’t give Sam reason to pause anymore.

The guy’s tall, but can’t be that much taller than Ashton. He looks harried, some of the fluffiest hair that Sam has ever seen falling over his eyes and the unbuttoned t-shirt he has on over a singlet falling off his shoulder, but Sam can spot three other kids in here who look more stressed.

So Sam doesn’t know what it is that draws his eye as the guy makes his way towards the counter to place his order with Ashton. He gets distracted then by Nicole, one of the regulars he actually knows the name of, wanting to chat about a holiday she just got back from. 

When Sam looks up again the guy is gone. He shrugs, and gets back to his shift.

 

 

 

The second time Sam sees the guy it’s only 2 days later, on Thursday morning. He comes in places his order with Ashton, just as Sam is signing in for his shift, tying an apron around his waist and pushing up his sleeves. This time though the guy makes his way to a booth in the back, one of the numbers they use for eat in customers, number 64, clutched in his hand.

Ashton is yawning as he starts to make the guys coffee, and since there’s no one lining up to order and the few desperate souls in here this early in the morning seem more than content to stare at laptop screens with bleary eyes, coffee cups clutched between their hands, Sam takes the opportunity to lean against the counter next to him. “Late night?” he asks teasingly.

“Fuck off,” Ashton mutters, yawning again into his elbow because his hands are currently occupied with making some ridiculous coffee concoction, “Law school might kill me.”

“That’s nice,” Sam says, because the polite thing to do is to sympathise with Ashton somehow, but there’s a more pressing question at hand, “But what the bloody fuck are you making?” 

Ashton is unable to prevent a nose wrinkle of disgust before he recites, “layers of butterscotch syrup, cream and two espresso shots.” Sam doesn’t blame him.

“That sounds disgusting.” Sam can’t help but say. Not that it’s the weirdest order they’ve ever had in here, that would have to go for the guy that once ordered a drink that was half iced tea and half hot coffee, but it would be teeth rottingly sweet. Sam feels the need to brush his teeth just thinking about it. 

“Thankfully we don’t have to drink it.” Ashton tells him with a pointed look as he finishes making the _thing_ and puts it down on the counter, ringing the bell just to be obnoxious, “Now how about you take this over to table 64 whilst I get his food.

“Or I could just wait for the food,” Sam mutters, even as he walks around the counter to collect the drink and take it to Mr. 64.

The guy has his laptop open, headphones on and is frowning in concentration as he scribbles notes all through his text book (Some part of Sam cringes at that - he’ll certainly never be able to put the book up for second hand sale now), so he jumps slightly when Sam puts the drink on the table, “Here you go mate,” He says to the guy trying tomake out what he’s studying. 

“Thanks,” the guy shoots him a distracted smile, without even looking up from his text book. Sam figures he’s not going to get anything else from the him so he beats a hasty retreat. 

(And maybe when Sam brings the guy’s breakfast sandwich to him he notices that he’s studying maths. Not that it matters, he just wants to know what kind of person orders a drink that’s such an insult to baristas everywhere).

 

 

 

The maths guy comes in a couple more times over the next few weeks whilst Sam’s on shift, though nothing really memorable happens; pretty soon Sam is wondering why he was ever curious about this guy in the first place. 

In fact the guy just becomes another regular, until one day during the afternoon rush, when Alyssa’s taking order, he’s making coffee and Hilfy, who had drawn the short straw quite literally, is running around quite frantically waiting on tables and cleaning up after customers.

The place has started to calm down, though it’s still packed, when instead of sliding the order slip down the counter towards him, Alyssa actually walks the three steps it takes to get to him, leaving a queue of muttering customers in her wake.

“Look at this one,” She scoots right up to him smirking in a way that Sam has come to learn means trouble. He ducks down sideways, so that she can whisper and not risk whichever customer she’s about to insult overhearing and also keep both hands on the machine, “Layers of butterscotch syrup, cream and two espresso shots.” She crows in delight. “That’s the weirdest one this week.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Sam says with a frown, eyes searching the room until he finds the maths guy. Even though he’s sitting on the futon thing they have for customers waiting for take away orders he has his text book out yet again, tapping his index finger in some mindless pattern - or maybe to the beat of his music - against the spine.

 “You didn’t add it to the list though,” Alyssa pouts, waving in the general direction of the staff room where they keep whiteboard with a running list of the weirdest customer orders, much to their manager Ian’s displeasure. 

“Ashton took it, not me.” Sam returns his attention to the coffee machine, because the thing is a little bit old, temperamental and definitely needed replaced at least 6 months ago. He takes the time to shoot a pointed look at the line of customers, who are starting to mutter with an air of discontent. 

“Well I’m adding it to the board. Points for me.” Alyssa tells him in a no nonsense tone (Sam wasn’t planning on arguing anyway) before breezing back to the till.

Sam doesn’t roll his eyes, because that would be letting Alyssa win, and instead focuses in making drinks as quickly and accurately as he can.

Once he makes the sacrilegious coffee, for Mitch the ticket says so now he has a name to match to the face, he pauses unsure exactly what he’s meant to call the damn thing. Rattling off the entire order is to much effort and calling it tooth decay in a cup would not go down well with Ian but it’s not like the thing has a proper name.

He settles for calling out the guys name first, and before he gets the chance to add on the ‘custom order’, he had settled on Mitch is suddenly there, textbook haphazardly tucked under his arm, one earbud hanging down his chest and slight flush along his neck. “Thanks mate.”

“No problem,” Sam says, though he’s pretty sure Mitch doesn’t even hear him as he stuffs the earbud in his ear and hurries away.

Interesting, Sam allows himself to think for all of five seconds before he’s getting back to his job. A double shot flat white; now this is more like it.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the fact that Mitch comes in a couple of times a week - at minimum; Sam doesn’t know for sure because he doesn’t actually work 24/7, however much it feels like it - it’s more than a month after Sam first spots him before he actually serves him. It’s late morning, the time of day hardly anyone sitting and eating, but there’s a flood of students stopping by to grab coffee’s between classes to wake themselves up, because 10am is apparently an ungodly hour to be awake. At least it is according to the South African guy with a ridiculously bright tattoo visible on his upper arm.

Sam doesn’t have much opportunity the hear the rest of that conversation, or much of any conversation, as the line for the till grows larger. In fact he barely even notices that Mitch is there until he asks for the next customers order automatically, eyes still trained on the computer screen, and gets no answer.

He looks up, slightly frustrated at the lack of response, to find Mitch standing there shifting from foot to foot slightly. “What do you want mate?” He prompts for a second time, even though he’s fairly sure Mitch heard him.

Once again he gets no response, and instead Mitch just hitches the straps of his bag higher up his shoulders. Sam thinks he knows what’s going on here, and he doesn’t have time for this. Judging by the way the blonde girl behind Mitch is glaring daggers at the back of his head she doesn’t really either. 

“Your regular then?” He asks Mitch, not waiting for his response before he starts to program the order into the computer screen. 

“Uh, yeah," is Mitch’s belated response, once Sam has already rung the order up and printed out the ticket to give to Ashton.

“Great, six bucks, twenty.” Sam says more sharply than is strictly polite; if Ian heard him he’d certainly be unimpressed. Mitch hands over the money to him silently, moving off before the blonde has a chance to kill him. Thankfully.  

 

 

 

 

Sam hates pulling the closing shifts, the time when the shop is all but dead yet there are still a couple of hours until he’s allowed to close up. Friday afternoons are especially quiet, when students care more for partying than studying and coffee. 

This afternoon he’s the only one on, and there are only three customers spread out across the shop. Two guys sitting together with their laptops open, probably taking advantage of the stores free wifi, and one young girl that Sam knows is waiting for her mum to pick her up after her dad has dropped her off like every week. 

Sam was just wondering if Ian actually had cameras in here like he was always threatening, or if he could get away with messing around on his phone, when the door opened and Mitch walks in. Sam watches as he walks towards his favourite table in the back, dumping his stuff on it before heading for the front counter. He’s rummaging around in his pocket, probably for money, so he doesn’t notice it’s Sam at the counter till he’s almost there. Mitch starts slightly, probably remembering how Sam had been a little bit short with him last time, before squaring his shoulders and walking up. 

“Afternoon mate,” Sam smiles at Mitch once he reaches him, still with one ear bud in. Perhaps it’s surgically attached to his ear. Sam wouldn’t be surprised. 

“Afternoon,” Mitch returns with a wary look. Maybe he’s not used to service people talking to him, or maybe he actually thinks Sam’s always an asshole.

“How’s it going?” Sam asks, leaning forwards across the counter. He’ll take Mitch’s order in a minute, not that he really needs to ask, but he’s going to seize any opportunity that presents itself to stave off the mind numbing boredom. Even if only for a few blissful seconds.

“Not bad,” Mitch shrugs, turning his wallet over in his hands a couple of time.

When he makes no move to expand on his answer, Sam sighs and gives himself one last chance to engage in conversation before giving up.  “Long day?

“You could say that,” Mitch smiles slightly this time. Despite the fact it’s pretty cold outside, Sam has a long sleeved shirt on underneath his uniform, Mitch is only wearing a T-shirt. “Been at Uni since 8am, you know how it is.” Then he pauses and his smile turns slightly sheepish, “Do you know how it is?” 

Sam can’t help laughing at that. “Yeah, I know how it is.” Sure he might not be studying this year unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it) but he definitely remembers the unpleasantness of early starts. They're not something that stopped once he got a regular job. “So the regular then?”

“Yeah,” Mitch nods, ceasing his wallet spinning, presumably so he can pay. He pauses for a second, and Sam wonders if he’s forgotten how much his drink costs or something, before he asks, “How do you know?” Sam has no clue what he’s talking about, and his confusion must show on his face because Mitch explains, “Do you just remember everyone’s orders or…?” 

“Oh, well you get to know the regulars orders after a while,” Sam shrugs, as he rings the order up on the till, and very pointedly doesn’t look at Mitch. He can hardly tell him that he’s been the topic of light ridicule from some of Sam’s co-workers about his choice in caffeinated beverage. “But yours is an unusual one and those tend to be easier.” Sam glances up at Mitch out of the corner of his eye, and he seems to be blushing, so instead of forcing him to answer he tells him, “Six, twenty.”

“Right, thanks.” As Mitch takes the opportunity to dig around in his wallet, presumably for exact change, Sam wonders exactly why he seems to be so embarrassed by his preference (and it _is_ rather embarrassing in Sam's professional experience) yet continues to order it.

Sam smiles, like he’s been trained to do, as Mitch hands him the money, exact change just as Sam had predicted, and tells him, “I’ll bring it over in a minute okay?” There’s no need to bother with numbers today. 

“Sure,” Mitch mumbles before shuffling back to the table he’d claimed as his own. 

It takes Sam a couple of minutes to make the drink, perhaps being more fancy with patterns in the syrup than is strictly necessary. As he’s bringing it over to Mitch he notices there’s a huge stack of books sitting on the booth next to him and even more pilled haphazardly on the table, some of them open. Sam’s not sure how he managed to carry them all in. 

“You opening a library?” Sam quips as he sets the drink down on the only patch of free table.

“Huh?” Mitch starts, as if his presence is a surprise, before looking up at Sam in confusion.

“That’s an awful lot of books,” Sam explains gesturing to the books littered everywhere. He didn’t think it was that much of an obscure joke. 

“Yeah,” Mitch reaches up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, “I’ve got a test on Monday and umm I’m not ready for it at all.” Sam knows that feeling, of a last minute cram to learn things you’re pretty sure aren’t going to stick. 

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to study at home or something instead of lugging them all about?” Sam can’t help but ask. It might be slightly rude sure, but he’s _curious_ about this guy.

 “I usually can but my brother and his, ahh.” Mitch pauses here and eyes Sam in a way that makes Sam feel like he’s being judged, before Mitch continues, “Significant other were busy today.” Sam takes that to mean Mitch had been sexiled for the afternoon and whilst he can’t really approve of his brother’s actions, especially if Mitch had a big test in a couple of days, it certainly explains things. 

“Ahh, tough luck mate.” Sam knows how that feels well enough. David's kicked him out to hook up with that boyfriend of his more times than Sam can count.

“Yeah well, it is what it is right?” Mitch shrugs again, before reaching for his drink. It's almost a nervous tick. Sam isn’t sure what to say next, to keep the conversation going, but he is curious about what exactly Mitch is studying. Then again maybe Sam should just leave him to study if he's so worried about the test.

The decision is taken out of his hands for him because oddly enough a gaggle of teenage girls make their way into the store. Once he’s taken their orders and made their sugary concoctions for them, not that different to Mitch’s actually, Mitch looks so absorbed in his work Sam would hate to disturb him.

He’ll just have to satisfy his curiosity next time.

 

 

 

 

Next time is the following Monday afternoon. Mondays and Tuesdays are the only days that the university offers night classes so they’re always the busiest evenings of the week. Still, Mitch manages to walk in at a point in time when the cafe is pretty full, but no one seems to be ordering.

Once again he dumps his things on a table, funnily enough just a laptop today, before he drags his feet to the counter. He looks decidedly exhausted.

Even though Alyssa is technically meant to be taking orders today and Sam’s manning the coffee machine he sidles up to her, “Hey, I’ve got this one yeah?” 

The look she shoots him is all kinds of suspicious and promises an interrogation later, but thankfully she agrees, and her parting shot of “Sure you have Romeo,” is nowhere near as biting as it could be. Still Sam has to flip her off as she struts away, _really_ hoping those security cameras are a bluff.

“Good afternoon,” Sam greets Mitch cheerfully, before being the nosy bugger that he, asking before he can stop himself, “How’d the test go?”

The way Mitch lets out a defeated sigh and bows his neck even lower, lower than Sam thought was possible, lets him know the answer before Mitch even opens his mouth. “Shit.” 

For all that Mitch’s posture walking in here should have given away the answer, Sam hasn’t actually thought ahead how to respond to that. He ends up awkwardly replying, “Maybe you didn’t do as badly as you thought.” 

“Trust me mate I didn’t answer half the questions,” Mitch laughs bitterly running an absent minded hand through his hair. “I did shit. Can I just get my drink?” Sam didn't blame Mitch for being short with him right now. 

“Sure,” Sam smiles, punching the order into the system, but waving Mitch off when he tries to pay, “It’s fine Mitch, on the house.” 

Mitch’s eyes narrow at him, and Sam feels like he’s done something wrong. “How’d you know my name?” Mitch asks suspiciously, wallet still half way open in his hand.

“We take it when you get a take-away,” Sam laughs sheepishly, even though he has no reason to be sheepish.

“Oh,” Mitch looks pretty embarrassed at that, though Sam has the tact not to say anything, “It’s fine-  I’ll pay.” 

“On the house, I insist.” Sam says, opening the long abandoned draw and rummaging through the mess for one of the old loyalty cards. They’ve stopped giving them out to new customers at Ian’s insistence, but Sam thinks one couldn’t hurt. He shoves the thing into Mitch’s hand. “See, you’ve even been here more than 10 times, we owe you one.” 

“Well, alright then.” Mitch says slowly, shoving the card into his wallet and walking away. Sam catches him muttering something about "stupid Chemistry" as he goes Chemistry. Huh.

Sam makes the drink, adding maybe a little bit more syrup and coffee than they’re strictly supposed to.

“I saw that you know.” Alyssa leans on the counter next to him as he makes smiley faces with the syrup on the final layer. 

“Saw what?” He plays innocent, even though he knows she’s referring to the loyalty card. He’s kind of regretting doing it, because he’s pretty sure it’s a move he picked out of some trashy tv show. Mitch looked like he needed it though, so he can’t regret it too much.

Alyssa just shakes her head at him, affecting a smug look that really doesn’t suit her, “You’ve got it bad Sammy,” she says, tone mocking.

Sam shrugs her off, placing a napkin on a saucer and then the cup on top of that. Just because he feels sorry for the poor bugger doesn’t mean jack shit. Instead he says“I’m going on break now. You can hold down the fort for 20 minutes, yeah?” as he brushes past her.

“Course I can,” Alyssa scoffs at him as if he’d asked a monumentally stupid question, “Good luck Sammy.” She winks at him. Sam really wishes she hadn’t swapped shifts with Ashton today. Ashton never bothered him like this.

As Sam approaches the table he notices Mitch isn’t listening to music for once, and it’s certainly odd to see the table not littered with study paraphernalia. The only thing on the table in fact is Mitch’s laptop, which is firmly closed.

Mitch looks up as Sam approaches the table and smiles at him, or at least attempts to, “One tooth decay in a cup.” Sam jokes, putting the tall glass down in front of Mitch. 

“Thanks.” Mitch mutters frowning distractedly. The frown becomes even more prominent when Sam slips into the booth opposite him. Which might be over stepping the mark but until Mitch tells him to fuck off he’s going to stay. 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Sam says folding his legs up under himself so that’s he’s properly comfortable, “What exactly is it that you study.” 

If Mitch thinks the question is intrusive, they have only had a handful of pointless exchanges, he doesn’t show it. “Chemical engineering,” he answers in a way that isn’t exactly enthusiastic.  

Chemistry. Sam had been right.

“So what was the test today on?” Sam asks as casually as he can manage.  

He almost doesn’t expect Mitch to answer, Sam is being a nosy shit, but he either doesn’t mind sharing or is totally out of it after his test today because he answers, “Chemistry,” pulling a face that shows his exact feelings about the subject. 

Sam is almost offended.

“So what, you don’t like chemistry?” Sam asks, pretty confused why a guy who doesn’t like chemistry is studying chemical engineering.

“I don't exactly dislike it, it just doesn’t make sense to me,” Mitch says mournfully. Sam knows that feeling, but it’s one he left behind in high school when he’d finally been allowed to ditch history. 

“Well how about you bring your notes in next time you’re in here.” Sam finds himself offering. What can he say, he has a soft spot for Mitch, and maybe he does miss studying just a little bit. “And we’ll see what we can do.” 

“What?” Mitch asks, looking at Sam as if he’s never seen him before. It makes Sam so uncomfortable he can’t help but shift in his seat slightly. “I don’t even know your name mate, no offence.” 

“Oh right,” Sam doesn’t blush, though he does reach out to grab one of the little sugar packets on the table, running his fingernails over the grains inside. He forgets they don’t wear name tags here like they did at the last place he worked sometimes. “Sam,” he offers 

“Well nice to meet you officially Sam,” There’s a hint of a cheeky smile there, Sam notices with a start. That’s better than nothing, “but-“ 

Sam doesn’t find out what that but was going to be because they’re interrupted by Alyssa yelling, “Oi lazy butt, break time’s up. Back to work.”

Sam knows for a fact it hasn’t been twenty minutes yet but it’s not worth arguing with Alyssa so he just unfolds himself and climbs out of the booth. “Bring your notes next time, I’m serious.” He tells Mitch, pointing a finger at him to show just how serious he is. 

“How do I know you’ll be here? Are you always working then?” Mitch asks with a proper cheeky grin. It’s pretty much as mischievous as Sam had imagined.

“Pretty much. This place _is_ my life.” 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Sam isn’t expecting to see Mitch the next day since he can’t recall ever seeing him on a Tuesday so he’s a bit surprised when he does come in. Unfortunately he comes in at a time when Ashton and Sam are pretty busy, the lunch rush has finished but there’s a flood of people wanting caffeine presumably before their afternoon classes, so it’s half an hour before Sam has an opportunity to talk to Mitch.

Once the rush dies down, Sam realizes that Mitch never ordered a drink. He glances over at where Mitch has set up in his usual booth wondering  _why_  he didn’t bother. Sam's reaching for the coffee machine to make himself an americano, telling himself it's none of his business, when something stops him. Operating on autopilot he reaches for the butterscotch syrup and cream; before he knows it he has a finished drink on his hands. Ashton looks up from his phone long enough to shoot him a weird look, but thankfully spares him comment as he finishes icing the drink. It’s just as well because Sam could make a comment or two about how Ash is steadfast ignoring the cleaning rag on the counter beside him, probably snapchatting his roommate again. 

He’s not so lucky when he sets Mitch’s drink aside and has started working on his own, flinching when Ashton’s hand shoots out to pick it up. 

“What you doing mate?” He asks instinctively, before he realises perhaps he was a little to hasty in asking and so tacks on a quip, “Trying to induce a sugar high and lose your job?” Admittedly it’s not his finest. 

Ashton shoots him a deadpan look but doesn’t bother addressing the comment. “The drink's for the same guy as last time right? Ian hasn’t had a moment of insanity and added it to the menu.”

Ian took the composition of the menu very seriously, so the chances of that happening are slim to none. “No, you’re right.” Sam told Ashton, having to return his attention to the temperamental coffee machine before it blew up in his face.

“Well then I’m giving the guy his drink,” Out of the corner of his eye Sam can see Ashton nodding towards something, and now that his own americano is pretty much done he looks up and notices for the first time that Mitch is standing at the cash register. Sam can’t see his feet, but the way he’s moving suggests he’s probably shuffling them. 

“Bring your notes?” Sam asks, trying to put him at ease as he finishes up his own coffee **.**  

“Yeah,” Mitch nods at him, before handing over his money to Ash whilst shooting Sam a look as if daring him to stop him. Sam wasn’t planning on it.

“Alright, I am going on break for a bit.” Sam picks up his coffee in one hand and claps Ashton’s shoulder with the other, “Give me a holler if you need help or it starts to pick up.” He says, picking up Mitch’s drink off the counter as he makes a beeline for Mitch's table.

He frowns at the phone sitting unattended at the table as he places Mitch’s drink next to it and folds himself into the booth on the opposite side of the table. Sam looks up and notices that Mitch is still standing by the cash register staring at him in a way Sam can’t say he’s entirely comfortable with. Thankfully once Mitch realises that Sam is looking at him he shoots Sam a half hearted smile and heads for the table.

“Nice phone mate,” Sam nods to where the shiny new Iphone is still sitting on the table where Mitch had discarded it. In fact it’s the only thing on the table, Mitch’s usual mess of books nowhere in sight.

“Oops.” Mitch shrugs but doesn’t look particularly bothered as he slides back into his seat. 

“So,” Sam says once it becomes clear that Mitch is more interesting in his coffee thing than talking, “notes?”

Mitch nods jerkily, reaching for the bag that’s stuffed between him and the wall, left unattended as well, before pausing and redirecting his attention to Sam. He hesitates for a moment biting on his bottom lip before blurting out, “Why do you even want to help me?”

Sam searches silently for an answer, but doesn’t particularly have one. “I’m good at chemistry,” He says slowly, giving himself time to try and figure out what would be an explanation that Mitch would accept, “You’re struggling with Chemistry and frankly,” he lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper because Ian is  _always_  watching, “This place can get awfully boring.” 

“So you’re trying to tell me you’re just a nice guy?” Mitch asks him, though the way his mouth quirks up at the corners suggests he’s joking.

“Maybe I am,” Sam shrugs his shoulders teasingly, “so do you have those notes or should I go back to cleaning the counter for the third time today?”

 “I have them, I have them.” Mitch rolls his eyes at Sam, before actually digging around in his backpack. From what Sam can see from across the table it’s pretty organised; how the thing can carry as much as Mitch has stuffed in there without bursting apart at the seams is anyone’s guess.

“Here,” Mitch slides them across the table towards Sam fixing his eyes determinedly on the vintage movie posters on the opposite wall. 

Sam allows himself a smirk before he picks the notes up to have a look. They’re once again surprisingly organised. If Sam had to hazard a guess he’s say that they’d been copied out after class because he refuses to believe someone could take such neat notes devoid of any sort of short hand during a lecture. 

“Alright then,” Sam says, skimming the notes and pleased to discover he still understands everything despite his lack of recent practice. “Where are you struggling?” 

Mitch tears his eyes away from the posters to meet Sam’s eyes. Or a point on his forehead, but it’s an improvement. “Everywhere?”

Sam’s not surprised by the the response though he thinks Mitch is probably selling himself short. He sure  _hopes_  Mitch is selling himself short. “Okay, well which bit do you need to know soonest?”

Mitch looks thoughtful for a while, and Sam’s starting to think maybe he’ll have to explain himself better, before he offers “I have another test on the reactivity of metals in a couple of weeks.”

Sam can works with this. First he has to know where to start though, “And do you understand any of it at all?” he asks gently, trying not to be too condescending.

 “Uhh,” Mitch mutters, before reaching forward and pulling his notes out of Sam’s grip. He scans them quickly before setting them back on the table, facing Sam. “Just this bit,” he admits pointing to the notes. Balancing chemical equations, Sam notes. Well it’s a start. “I mean understand how to balance the equation when it's there on paper,” Mitch adds, sounding frustrated, “but I just can't figure out why oxygen has a -2 charge when it becomes an ion,” 

“Alright.” Sam nods, pushing the sleeves of his shirt up,  “First thing you’ve got to understand is the electronic configuration of each atom.” 

They spend a good hour going over the basics of covalent bonds and metal anions and cations before Ashton calls Sam over so he can go on his lunch break. Mitch thanks him, and Sam promises to help explain further next time Mitch is in, before he takes his place back at the register feeling more accomplished than he has in a while.

 

 

 

 

 

Sam doesn’t see Mitch at all on Wednesday, which he’s secretly grateful for. Alyssa calls in sick leaving them one staff member short and when Sam does have a chance to breathe the last thing he wants to be doing is  _thinking._  

When he gets in for his shift on Thursday Mitch is already sitting in the booth Sam has come to think of as Mitch’s, half empty drink clutched in one hand, pen held loosely in the other.

“Afternoon,” Sam greets Ashton as he heads for the back room so he can swipe himself in for his shift and ditch his bag.

Ashton barely shoots him a glance as he mumbles back his greeting, too busy buried in the huge law text book he has open on the counter. 

“Slow day,” Sam asks, leaning against the counter right next to Ashton to try and catch his attention for a second. 

“Yep,” Ashton still doesn’t look up at him as he flips a page of the book though it looks like he’s trying not to laugh, “So before you ask feel free to go hang out with your new crush or whatever.”

Sam rolls his eyes, “You’ve been talking to Alyssa again haven’t you?”

“Nope,” Ashton’s definitely smirking now even if he’s trying to keep his disinterested facade in place, “We work shifts together without saying a word. It’s a gift.”

 “Fuck off,” Sam mutters, pretty sure that Alyssa has been a terrible influence on poor Ashton. Since the shop is pretty dead and Ashton did offer Sam decide he will go see if Mitch is up for a study session.

“Don’t forget your apron,” Ashton calls cheekily as Sam starts to walk out from behind the counter. Flipping Ashton off is the most reasonable action in the situation though Sam does grab his apron on his way to Mitch’s table. 

“What are we studying today?” Sam asks over Mitch’s shoulder, trying to take a peak at his notes as he ties the apron around his waist.

Mitch jumps in shock trying to cover his notes from Sam’s gaze with his arms. They're quite nice arms Sam notices, though only in passing. Really.

“You right mate?” Sam asks carefully, frowning at the odd behaviour as he hovers over Mitch’s shoulder. Mitch could be studying something other than chemistry but judging by the glimpse Sam caught of the notes he doesn’t think so. In fact they look to be the notes on reactivity of metals from the other day. 

“I’m fine,” Mitch mutters dismissively, only removing his arms from the notes once Sam takes a couple of steps back.

“If you don’t want to study today that’s fine,” Sam tells him. He’s certainly not going to waste his time if it’s not wanted.

“No, it’s just,” Mitch sighs reaching up to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, somehow getting his hand caught up in his headphone cords in the process, “I still don’t understand.” 

“What do you still not understand?” Sam asks curiously as he finally sits down now he realises Mitch just seems to be embarrassed.

“Most of it,” Mitch takes great interest in untangling his hand from the headphones, continuing to play with them once he has and steadfast avoiding Sam’s eyes.

 “You seemed to understand the other day,” Sam prods, not trying to make Mitch uncomfortable but wondering where he’d gone wrong in his explanation.

 “I understood when you were explaining it, it all made sense in my head.” Mitch admits, looking frustrated more than anything. That’s not the point though, Sam wants to know how to help not make Mitch feel worse. “But once I tried to look over them again yesterday it got all jumbled again.”

“Okay,” Sam nods, considering his options. He’s always understood things by reading and rationalising but that’s clearly not how Mitch operates. Casting his eyes around the room for inspiration he catches site of Ian’s display of their house blend of coffee. Perfect.  

“One second,” Sam excuses himself, rushing up to the counter and tapping his fingers in the middle of Ashton’s page to catch his attention, “Hey Ash, could you hand me some beans,”

Ashton shoots him a skeptical look but doesn’t bother asking whatever question is on his mind, just grabs a handful of coffee beans and shoves them into Sam’s hands ignoring the few beans that fall onto the counter. Sam doesn’t bother picking them up either. 

“The first thing you’ve got to understand is electron configuration right?” he asks Mitch, dropping the coffee beans onto the only patch of free space on the table. Mitch nods sceptically as Sam neatly stacks all the books and papers into piles in order to clear a bigger space.

“Alright,” Sam says, looking around for something to use as a nucleus before deciding his watch will do. “This is your oxygen nucleus,” he explains as he sets the watch in the middle of the table.  “Electrons orbit around the nucleus,” he adds, as he starts to arrange the beans in a circle around the watch. “These orbits are called shells, and they're pretty specific about how many electrons they can each contain, kinda like high school teachers about school uniforms, you know?” 

Mitch cracks a smile at that, which Sam takes as his cue to forge on. “But really, the only electrons you should concern yourself with are the ones in the very last shell, because they're the ones that are actually going to react and go on to do all the cool stuff. They're called the valency electrons.”

“Got it,” Mitch nods, looking incredibly determined to understand it this time. It'd be kind of cute, is Sam allowed himself to think that way.  

“So, you just need to fill in all the shells until you get to the last one” Sam recaps with a smile as he sweeps the beans into a pile and pushing it towards Mitch “Want to give it a go?” 

“Uhh, sure,” Mitch replies, with a nod spreading the beans into two straight lines.  “Oxygen has eight electrons, so.. two go in the first shell,” he says somewhat hesitantly, laying down two beans around the watch. “Two go in the second shell, and… the last four in the third shell.” he finishes, with a hesitantly optimistic smile.

“Now what?” Mitch squints, taking the notes off the top of the pile Sam had made. Sam is silent, waiting for Mitch to get it and he does pretty quickly “Oh. Thee third shell isn't full yet, so there's still room for two more electrons?” Mitch asks, still not confident in his answer.

“Exactly.” Sam nods, as Mitch's smile grows into a proud one. Honestly Sam feels a little proud himself. Hopefully Mitch understands the underlying concepts now and it will stick. “Atoms don't like having incomplete shells, so they're going to try and fill them. Oxygen is going to gain two electrons from somewhere to fill its third shell, which means..” 

“It'll have a negative 2 charge.” Mitch completes Sam's sentence with more confidence this time. Sam nods in confirmation, digging through the pile of notes till he finds a well used periodic table. He points out Oxygen on the table, showing Mitch how gaining two electrons gives it the electronic configuration of the noble gas Argon. 

“Right, I get it.” Mitch sounds much more certain now than he did on Tuesday so Sam’s pretty confident he understands.

“Good,” He smiles warmly, reaching for a pencil that Mitch has left carelessly at his elbow, “May I?” he asks, gesturing to the notes that Mitch still has clutched in his right hand. 

“Sure, sure.” Mitch nods, handing them over to Sam. 

Sam he makes a few annotations in the margins of Mitch’s notes with his own shorthand and some tips for what to look for when attempting to predict the outcome of a chemical reaction. They spend the next hour or so going over all the concepts from the other day in more interactive ways to make sure Mitch understands them properly, before Mitch remembers he has class and rushes off with a shout of thank you, grabbing the attention of the few customers without headphones.

 Sam allows himself a self satisfied smile at a job well done, before he climbs out of the booth and heads back to work. 

 

 

 

 

"Holly's back next week." Alyssa tells him from her perch on one of the empty tables. It's a Friday afternoon and Sam's managed to pull the closing shift with Ben, because there's definitely enough work for one person let alone two on a Friday afternoon. 

Alyssa's not even meant to be here but her boyfriend had some sort of group meeting at uni so she'd elected to stay and bother Sam. Sam's starting to think it's her favourite pass time. 

"I know." Sam tells her, not bothering to look up from his phone. Ben's wiping down the tables, despite the fact there's still time until till closing. They're not expecting anymore customers today.

"Aren't you excited?" Alyssa tries again, "Didn't you miss your partner in crime. Your best friend forever. The Grace to your Will." 

"I haven't have a chance to miss her," Sam answers instead of pointing out how Alyssa's pop culture reference is about twenty years out of date; he wants to get home alive. "She sent me a snapchat of every single time she's drunk a coffee in the time she's been away."

"That's sweet?" Ben offers, speaking up for the first time in a while. Sam's a bit surprised he's even listening to them since he generally prefers to stay away from Alyssa's theatrics. Then again there's not much else to do. 

"She's been away for 6 weeks. She drinks 4 coffee's a day minimum." Sam turns towards Ben, keeping his expression as flat as he possibly can, "Do you know how many snapchats of coffee that is?"  
  
"A lot?" Ben guesses with a small smile.

"Almost 200 snapchats. Of coffee." Sam tells them in a hollow voice. Alyssa giggles into her hand, like she's not the one who's been a terrible influence on poor Holly, "From the  _same_  coffee shop every day."

"You poor baby, that sounds really traumatic." Alyssa coos at him.

"You could ignore them?" Ben suggests, dropping the cloth on the table that can only be entirely spotless by now.

Alyssa and Sam both laugh. "And have her blowing up my texts? No I'll take the lesser of two evils thanks."

The thump of Alyssa's shoes on the floor, as she presumably launches herself off the table is all the warning Sam gets before she's slinging an arm around his shoulder, "Aww you don't mean that! You've probably been counting the hours till she gets home since the day she left."

"Only because it means less shifts I have to work with  _you_." Sam huffs, as if he doesn't already have plans to pick Holly up from the airport on Tuesday. He doesn't bother shrugging Alyssa's arm off.

"I'll tell Holly you said that." Alyssa crows in delight. Ben chuckles at the two of them, picking his rag back up but not making any move to start wiping again. Sam's pretty sure he'll rub a hole in the table if he tries.

"Be my guest," Sam mutters, looking towards the clock to see how long they've got till they can close and is pleasantly surprised to see that it's five minutes past closing time. 

"You're not fun anymore Sammy," Alyssa pouts as Sam does shrug her off this time so he can lock the cafe's main door. "That boyfriend of yours has made you boring."

"I don't have a fucking boyfriend Alyssa." Sam tells her with an exaggerated sigh, wondering when her Mitch's group meeting was meant to be finishing.

"Keeping lying to yourself Sammy," Alyssa tells him, patting him on the shoulder as he walks past her towards the till so he can lock the doors up, "But mark my words, before the end of semester your cute study dates will turn into real dates." 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm done with this, I'm dumping in the raw, unedited stuff I have finished and then orphaning it. Sorry.

If Sam thought Mitch came in regularly before it had nothing on how often he came in after Sam had offered his assistance. To see Mitch huddled in his booth surrounded by notes and textbooks was nothing unusual. All the staff had learnt his name and regular order and most of them would sometimes stop to chat with him for a moment or two if he wasn’t preoccupied with study.

Sam knows Mitch doesn’t only come in for his help but when the first thing Mitch says to him one afternoon before he’s even clocked in is, “You weren’t here yesterday,” it’s nice.

“Yeah,” Sam tries to keep his grin in proportion to what Mitch has actually said, as he leans against the wall opposite Mitch “I swapped shifts with Holly on Saturday since she had a cricket game,”

“You swapped shifts because she wanted to watch a cricket game?” Mitch asks in a way both curious and judgemental.

“I swapped shifts because she wanted to play a game of cricket.” Sam corrects with a smirk. He’s never seen Holly play but he’s only heard good things from Alyssa.

“Oh well in that case it’s what anyone would do,” Mitch smirks leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest to mirror Sam’s pose.

Which is when Alyssa decides to speak up from the counter “Oi Romeo,” she yells, drawing a few curious stares from customers. “Are you going to clock in or should I tell Ian you never showed up?”

Sam meets Mitch’s eyes and pulls a face even as he’s walking backwards towards the counter and retorting, “Aww Healy I didn’t know you cared.”

Alyssa sneers and flips him off as he passes. He bumps into Ashton in the back room who’s heading across the road to eat lunch with his girlfriend in the sandwich shops she works at. It means it’s more than half an hour after he clocks in before Sam gets an opportunity to talk to Mitch again since Alyssa insists Sam mans the coffee machine whilst she does all the serving.

By the time Ashton comes back though she seems to have tired of the game because she sends sends him off to talk to Mitch with only one quip about his ‘boyfriend’. 

“Did you actually need my help with something yesterday,” Sam asks as he drops into the seat opposite Mitch not bothering with pleasantries, “Or did you just miss me.”

Mitch looks at him over the top of his laptop, flicking his ear bud out in the process, “Actually I noticed this place was much more appealing when it’s not being sullied by your face.” Sam’s pretty sure Mitch did come with a Chemistry question so he cocks an eyebrow and waits Mitch out trying not to be distracted by the pencil Mitch is spinning in between his fingers. “Alright,” Mitch concedes after the silence stretches, bowing his head slightly, “I wanted to know if you could help explain CHEMISTRY THING.”

“Sure,” Sam smiles reaching forward to grab the pencil Mitch is still clutching out of his hand, “Do you have notes on it?”

“Yeah,” Mitch nods, closing his laptop and putting it back in his bag before sliding the notes that were open next to him towards Sam, “So I get that CHEMISTRY THING I just don’t get why that means CHEMISTRY THING.”

Sam talks Mitch through CHEMISTRY thing till the point where he can see that Mitch is starting to grasp it. Unfortunately before he’s sure it’s actually clicked Alyssa calls him back to work because Ashton’s about to clock off.

“Can you stick around mate or have you got class?” Sam asks leaning across the table. From previous experience he’s pretty certain Mitch has some outstanding engagement.

“Class,” Mitch replies pulling a face that lets Sam know exactly what he thinks of the class. It’s nothing good.

“We’ll pick this back up next time then,” Sam hands the pencil back to Mitch before leading back in the booth and stretching his arms over his head. Sam’s pretty sure Mitch will still remember this lesson, for someone who claims to not understand the subject at all he’s a quick study.

“When will you next be here?” Mitch asks teasingly as he starts to shove all his things into his backpack. Sam’s pretty sure he sees the back over of a book bend and tries not to cringe. “Don’t want to waste all the time it takes to get here.”

Sam has an idea. “Hey gimme that pencil back yeah?” He asks Mitch reaching for a scrap piece of paper that Mitch was probably going to leave on the table.

Mitch hands the pencil back to Sam looking very confused in the process. Sam doesn’t say anything though as he roughly sketches up his roster for Mitch. “Here,” He says once he’s done, shoving the thing across the table to Mitch and abruptly getting to his feet.

“Thanks,” Mitch says, looking at the scrap with an unreadable expression for a second before he folds it up and sticks it in the pocket of his jeans, “Now if I ever want to stalk you I know exactly how to.”

“Oi Samuel get your ass over here right now,” Alyssa calls from the counter, tapping her foot and staring at her wrist theatrically.

“My name’s not Samuel,” Sam calls back on reflex before shooting Mitch an apologetic smile, “Slave drivers calling and you’ve got to get to class.”

“Yeah, see you around.” Mitch waves as he halls his back pack over his shoulder and rushes out of the door. It’s five to three which means he’s probably going to be late for his class.

Alyssa makes kissing noises at him as he approaches the counter, so he’s well within his right to flick her with a tea towel as he passes on his way to the coffee machine.

Still, he’d better watch his back for the next few days; Sam fears her retaliation.

+++

The last Friday before the mid semester study break Sam can tell something’s not right with Mitch as soon as he walks through the door. He’s in the middle of trying to explain to a customer that they never made frappes with espresso though so all he can do is watch out the corner of his as Mitch slumps in his usual booth. He locks eyes with Holly over the irate customer’s shoulder and nods subtly towards Mitch hoping she’ll get his message. Thankfully she seems to because she nods in return, wipes her hands on her apron and heads towards Mitch.

“You alright hon?” Sam hears her asking before returning his attention to the woman who looks like she’d like to claw his eyes out now he’s confident that Mitch is in capable hands. It takes him a good ten minutes to placate the woman, finally agreeing to just make her an espresso frappe, taking no responsibility if it tastes terrible.

Once he’s shaken her though he makes a beeline for Mitch, who’s now chatting quietly to Holly who has a comforting hand on his shoulder. He still looks like someone just ran over his dog though.

“Sup Mate?” Sam asks as casually as he can manage taking his now accustomed seat opposite Mitch. He takes a moment to shoot a smile at Holly who nods in return, squeezing Mitch’s shoulder before returning back to the counter before Alyssa gets grumpy at them.

Sam’s not expecting Mitch to actually tell him what’s up so he’s surprised when Mitch pulls what Sam recognises from the cover page as a Chemistry Department assessment from his backpack, “I failed really badly.”

“Is this the test you were worried about?” Sam asks carefully, gently prying the offered document from Mitch’s grip. “The one you thought you failed?”

“Yeah,” Mitch nods with a dejected sigh. Sam’s not entirely sure why Mitch is seems so despondent at failing a test he expected to fail. “Even the stuff I thought I’d got I failed.”

Sam takes the opportunity to actually look at the raw score written on the page in stark red. He didn’t think teachers still marked in red. 14 out of 85. It could be worse.

“It’s fine though, you thought you’d failed this.” Sam says soothingly as he starts to flip through the test before remembering his manners, “May I?”

“Sure,” Mitch shrugs. Sam knows the feeling of failing a test is pretty horrible. Even when you’re pretty sure you’ve failed there’s that glimmer of hope that you’ve done better than you thought. Mitch had clearly done worse than he thought but Mitch’s understanding had hugely progressed since he’d sat the test. There was no reason for him to be as down as he seemed.

Flicking through the test Sam could see lots of careless errors, uses of the wrong formulas and even questions that hadn’t even been attempted. Still he’s fairly certain that if Mitch sat this test today he would at least pass.

“Alright,” Sam nods, plan to boost Mitch’s confidence quickly forming in his head, “Can you do something for me?”

“What?” Mitch asks warily as Sam hands the test back to him.

“Show me where you went wrong.” Sam says simply leaning back in the booth and trying not to let a smug smile creep on his face. There was no reason for it and Mitch would be put off.

“I don’t know where I went wrong.” Very real frustration leaks into Mitch’s voice, the most frustrated Sam has heard Mitch since he admitted he still didn’t understand the reactivity of metals content.

“Show me,” Sam repeats patiently, folding his hands on the table leaning towards Mitch now. Mitch bites on his lip for a second before letting out a resigned sigh and fishing in his backpack for a pen. He’s probably only doing it to show Sam he doesn’t understand, but Mitch is underestimating himself again. Sam is certain.

“Show me,” Sam repeats once Mitch has a blue pen in his hand. Mitch hesitates so Sam flips the test open to the first page and shoves it towards Mitch with a pointed stare. Mitch sighs in defeat before casting his eyes down to the test.

“Okay,” Mitch says, chewing on the end of his pen as he thinks, “Here I CHEMISTRY THING when I should have CHEMISTRY thing?” Mitch asks it like a question casting his eyes towards Sam questioningly. Sam just nods in confirmation, letting Mitch come to the answer himself, “So if I do CHEMISTRY THING that means the answer is CHEMISTRY THING.”

They slowly and methodically go through the test Mitch figuring out his errors and how to correctly answer the question. Sam only has to prompt or correct him a handful of times as is filled with a sense of pride when they get to the end of the paper.

“Alright, give it here,” Sam says pulling the paper towards him without waiting for a response. He’s going to mark it like Mitch had done a proper test, remembering where he’d had to step in.

Mitch manages to sit in silence for a couple of minutes, so Sam’s about half way through before Mitch finally speaks up, asking “How do you know all this stuff?” 

Sam had been expecting this question for a long while, surprised it had taken Mitch this long to ask it. “I studied Chemistry.” He explains not tearing his eyes away from the test paper in the hopes Mitch will drop the subject.

He doesn’t. “How do you study and work here pretty much every second of the day. Do you ever sleep?” Mitch teases, in a much better mood now he realises how far his understanding has come.

“Studied not studying,” Sam says shortly. He likes Mitch a lot but he’s not ready to spill his family situation to this guy he doesn’t really know anything about when it comes down to it.

Mitch seems to understand that it’s an off limit topic though because he nods and stops talking, allowing Sam to finish his makeshift marking.

“Alright,” Sam smiles at Mitch, putting the green pen he was using to mark down. The test is a mess now, 4 different coloured pens and pencil notes scribbled across the whole thing. “On your retake of this test you scored,” he pauses for dramatic effect drumroll coming from somewhere in the distance. He looks up, confused by that to see Holly leaning forward on the counter slapping it with her hands, Alyssa hovering over her shoulder trying to look disinterested, “86%.” He announced.

“Shit! No way.” Mitch laughs, looking totally gobsmacked as both Alyssa and Holly begin a round of applause. Thankfully the store is almost empty. 

Sam just meets Mitch’s eye and smiles back.

+++

Since a large majority of their customers are uni students study free weeks are usually incredibly quiet, especially compared to the frantic busy periods they experience during the term and close to exam time. Despite this Ian still insists on staffing the shop as usual, so they’ve become fairly adapt at finding creative ways to pass their time.

By Monday morning at 11am Sam and Ashton are already on their third round of ‘spot the difference in the cafe’ where they take turns closing their eyes whilst the other moves some of the things around and then have to find what’s been changed. The handful of customers in the shop have shot them odd looks but they’re keeping themselves entertained which is all that matters. As long as no one complains to Ian.

Sam was looking for the final change Ashton had made when Mitch walked in just in time to hear Sam cry “You changed the clock you sneaky bastard.”

“Only took you 20 minutes to figure it out,” Ashton cackles, finally ending the stopwatch app he has running on his phone.

“That’s against the rules,” Sam sighs, running a hand through his hair and leaning forward across the counter. Ashton had only changed the time by 15 minutes and Sam had forgotten his watch today so no wonder he hand’t noticed.

“There are no rules except don’t interfere with the customers,” Ashton smiles smugly at him, mirroring his position “You’re just filthy you didn’t think of it.”

“Changing the clock is interfering with the poor customers and their ability to tell the time,” Sam mutters. He’ll just have to come up with something really clever on his next turn and beat Ashton at his own game.

“You know,” Mitch is suddenly standing in front of them, though how Sam missed him approaching he has no idea. He must have come from the side, “I’m sure whatever conversation you’re having is really important and I hate to interrupt,” He leans over the counter towards them from the opposite side, “But I hear you guys sell drinks here.”

“Where on earth did you hear that?” Sam asked jokingly, straightening up and heading straight for the coffee machine as Ashton starts to ring Mitch’s order up without actually taking it.

“Wait a minute,” Mitch jokes, “How do you know what I want?”

“You want a triple shot espresso right?” Sam hides his smile even as he starts making Mitch’s regular drink. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Mitch give a full body shudder confirming his suspicions about Mitch’s choice in caffeinated beverage. Ashton laughs loudly, and Sam has to fight not to join him, before he takes pity on Mitch, “You’re having your regular, right?”

“Right,” Mitch nods, still looking slightly traumatised.

“Alright, I’ll bring it over in a second,” Sam nods as Mitch hands his exact change to Ashton before shuffling back to his booth.

“You know,” Ashton says, leaning against Sam’s back and peering over his shoulder as he starts adding the syrup, “I’m pretty sure that is half as much syrup as you’re meant to be using for a drink this size.”

“Say that louder why don’t you,” Sam doesn’t have a free hand to bat Ashton away but he does still his elbow backwards into his gut with perhaps more force than is necessary. 

“Ian will not be happy,” Ashton manages to singsong even whilst he’s faking shortness of breathe.

“Ian doesn’t know.” Sam says pointedly, stepping on Ashton’s foot just for good measure as he finishes up the drink.

“He’ll know unless you stop abusing me,” Ashton mutters darkly. Sam ignores him, instead picking up the drink and carrying it over to Mitch.

“Here you go,” Sam puts the drink in front of Mitch before taking his seat opposite him, “What are we studying today.”

Mitch looks up at him, bitting his lip. He certainly is a site, one ear bud wrapped around his neck somehow whilst the other is jammed in his ear. He hasn’t even been here for five minutes but he’s somehow manages to get a smudge of yellow highlighter in his cheek despite the fact the highlighter in his hand is blue. Not to mention he looks like he’s just rolled out of beg, “Actually I was going to work on a engineering assignment today?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Sam asks, resting his head against the back of the booth seat and pulling his legs up under him.

“Telling you.” Mitch nods, more definitively this time, “You don’t mind.”

Sam laughs, “Mate it’s your education, you can study whatever you like.” Still Sam is going to sit here and play on his phone because Mitch is much better company than Ashton. “Though if you don’t mind me asking why don’t you study at home?”

“It’s fine,” Mitch waves dismissively, “My brother’s gone to Sydney for the week.” Sam waits for the rest of the explanation, it never comes. He’s curious about why that means Mitch can’t study at home but Mitch respected his privacy last week so Sam is going to do the same thing.

“Alright, well study here all you’d like.” Sam offer emptily since it’s not like he could stop Mitch even if he wanted to.

“Thanks,” Mitch nods at him distractedly before returning his attention to his assignment. Sam watches, fascinated for a few minute as Mitch frowns at his laptop screen in concentration, bobbing his head along to whatever he’s listening to. Every now and then he flips through the notes left scattered across the table and highlights something, even more rarely he’ll beat the rhythm of whatever he’s listening to on the table.

There’s only so long Sam can watch Mitch without feeling like a stalker though so eventually he shuts his eyes, leaning his head even further back against the headrest. He’s not going to fall asleep though. Honest

(He does).

+++

The first week back after the study free week brings both a flood of students who seem to have realised that semester is half way done and they need to start actually studying, and a flood of bad weather. The back half of semester panic is something that Sam has experience many times before, both as a uni student and a barista, but the weather is worse than usual this time of year. It had started Sunday night and barely relented over the next few days, Sam had gotten soaked catching the bus into work even though he dressed for the weather. 

Still it surprises him when Mitch walks in at lunchtime on Thursday sopping wet and wearing nothing but a tank top, jeans and thongs. Sam takes one look at him before grabbing Holly, who’s currently arranging the food cabinet, by the hand and dragging her in front of the till. “Watch this,” He tells her before hurrying towards Mitch.

Once he gets to Mitch he has no idea what he should actually say and ends up settling on, “You look like a mess.”

“Thanks,” Mitch smiles at him in a way that’s almost rueful, “You don’t look so great yourself you have cream in your hair,” He coughs, “At least I hope it’s cream.”

Sam rolls his eyes since Mitch looks to pathetic to hit right now, instead steering him towards his usual booth at the back, “Seriously are you insane?”

“I have been called that before,” Mitch winks at he cheekily. It really doesn’t have very much of an effect when Mitch looks like a drowned rat.

“Do you have a jumper?” Sam asks, eyeing Mitch’s backpack wondering if he’s bothered to stuff one in there. Probably not.

“Didn’t have room.” Mitch shrugs his backpack off sheepishly before stuffing it down the side of the seat. He doesn’t sit down though instead turning to face Sam.

“Why aren’t you wearing a jumper?” Sam can’t help but ask not caring that he’s being rude. In weather like this Mitch’s tank top has been soaked through. “It’s been pissing like this all week,”

“It wasn’t raining when I left this morning.” Mitch shrugs rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. Sam doesn’t know why Mitch is being sheepish, Sam doesn’t care if Mitch gets sick because of his own stupidity, “I didn’t have time.”

It doesn’t take long to put a jumper on in the morning, and Mitch seems to just be making empty excuses. Sam’s not going to pry though because Sam doesn’t care.

Sam rolls his eyes once before before reaching out and pushing on Mitch’s shoulder, “Sit,” He ordered. Mitch complies, “Now you’re going to sit here and try and dry out, I’m going to bring you a drink that’s not your regular,” Mitch starts to protest at that but a glare from Sam shuts him down, “That’s just asking to get sicker. You can have hot chocolate.” 

Mitch relaxes at that, saluting cheekily “Yes mum.”

Sam flips him off as he heads up to Ben who’s manning the coffee machine, “Hot Chocolate for Mitch,” he keeps his voice down, because he doesn’t want the few customers that are standing in line to think someone is getting special treatment even if Mitch is.

Ben, bless his soul, just nods, and doesn’t question him like Alyssa, Ashton or even Holly would. Whilst Ben is making Mitch’s drink he heads to the back room to rummage through his stuff looking for one of the two spare hoodies he carries with him everywhere.

He pulls a folded one out of the bottom of his bag just as Ben calls out to him. Sitting on the counter is the largest mug in the store, one they’re allowed to use for themselves but not for customers, filled with hot chocolate. Sam thanks Ben, glad his co-workers seem to have gotten as attached to Mitch as he has.

Holly stops him with a hand on his wrist as he passes her, “Make sure he looks after himself.” She tells him like a worried mother hen.

“I’m not sure he’s going to listen to me.” Sam tells her. Holly just rolls her eyes at him, as if he’s being the stupid one, though she does thankfully drop his wrist.

“Tell him,” She calls after his back and he returns to Mitch’s table.

“One hot chocolate and one jumper for the wanker who tried to take on mother nature,” Sam announces setting the drink on the table before throwing the jumper at Mitch’s head.

Mitch pulls it off his face and grins cheekily at Sam as he pulls it over his head, “Why Samuel I didn’t know you cared.”

“My name isn’t actually Samuel,” Sam sighs as he takes his seat, cursing Alyssa and her giant mouth.

Mitch continues to grin at him in a way that’s very disconcerting. “How much do I owe you,” Mitch finally says, gesturing to the drink as if Sam didn’t know what he meant.

“It’s fine. On the house,” Sam waves him away. When it looks like Mitch is going to argue he quickly adds, “Loyalty card.”

Despite the fact Mitch has never attempted to use the loyalty card and Sam isn’t even sure if Mitch still has it Mitch doesn’t argue, just smiles at Sam in a much more genuine way as he wraps his hands around the warm mug, “Thank you.” He says quietly. 

“You’re welcome.” Sam smiles back.

It’s totally worth the annoyingly knowing smile Holly shoots him when he returns to the register. Almost.

+++

The second he steps foot into the store the next time he’s on shift with Alyssa, she will not shut up about the ‘clothes sharing incident’ as she refers to it. Thankfully that’s not until the next week and Mitch is nowhere in site. 

“I can’t believe I missed it,” Alyssa mocks him relentlessly pulling herself up so sitting on one of the tables closest to the counter that she’s supposed to be cleaning, “Our little Sammy’s all growing up,” she pretends to wipe away a tear, “Getting his first boyfriend and everything.”

“One, he’s not my boyfriend,” Sam counts off on his fingers, “Two even if he was he wouldn’t be my first boyfriend, three I’m not your little anything.”

“So you admit you want to be his boyfriend,” Alyssa singsongs, swinging her legs over the edge of the table, “You want to kiss his faaace and hold his haaand and suck his-”

“Alyssa,” Sam hisses, well aware that there are customers in the shop and someone could walk in and hear her and second, “not the time or the place.”

“I’m just so disappointed Holly didn’t have the foresight to take any picture.” Alyssa let’s out a put upon sigh completely ignoring Sam’s scolding, “This was a big moment in your life.”

“That’s because Holly’s a good person unlike you,” Good person is a relative term of course because he’s pretty sure he knows who told Alyssa and it wasn’t Ben.

“You’ll be wishing that you had picture when you’re old and senile and are losing your memories of each other.” She’s clearly mocking him but Sam can’t help thinking Alyssa’s revealed something about herself she didn’t mean to.

“I didn’t know you were such a hopeless romantic Alyssa,” Sam coos condescendingly, leaning across the counter towards her.

“I know,” She lets out another theatrical shudder, “Mitch has rubbed off on me like the sentimental puppy he is.”

“Mitch is a bit of a pathetically sentimental puppy.” Sam nods, adopting a serious look on his face. Which is of course the moment that cafe Mitch, who’s surname Sam still doesn’t know, walks through the door. He’s not by himself either, which gives Sam reason to pause, he’s with a skinny guy with some of the brightest blonde highlights Sam has ever seen in his life, and they’re both staring at him. There goes any hope they didn’t hear him.

Alyssa has clearly seen them as well because she leans forward with a smile that could only be described as evil and asks innocently “How could you say that? Mitch is lovely.”

“You have to say that, you’re the one marrying the bloke.” Sam pats himself on the back for an awkward moment smoothly averted, “Has he popped the question yet?”

Alyssa leans back with a pout on her face, whether because her Mitch hasn’t proposed yet or because Sam ruined her fun he’s not sure, whilst his Mitch and the blonde guy start heading towards the counter again. “How do you know I’m not going to propose?” Alyssa whines.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the one way it’s going to happen,” Sam tells her with a knowing nod. Her Mitch is lovely but Alyssa has the poor guy wrapped around her little finger completely. Sam is pretty sure he doesn’t do anything without consulting her.

He doesn’t here her response though because Mitch and Blondie are now at the till and he actually has a job to do, “Hi, what can I get you today,” He smiles blandly at the two of them, curious as to who this guy could be.

“Uhhh,” Mitch pauses. Blondie rolls his eyes and orders green tea whilst Mitch continues to umm and uhh, “Your usual then?” He asks Mitch with a roll of his eyes, feeling a strong sense of deja vu.

“Yeah,” Mitch nods looking thankful whilst Blondie reaches for his wallet, handing over a 20 buck note before Sam has a chance to tell them the price.

“You’re not paying Tim,” Mitch turns to Blond, Tim, with narrowed eyes.

“Of course I am kid,” Tim smirks at Mitch in a way that just makes Mitch frown harder. Sam tries not to laugh, “I’d rather not deal with a lecture from Shaun about the right way to treat his kid brother.”

“Not a kid,” Mitch rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother putting up a fight. Interesting. Sam just hands them back their change and tells them he’ll bring their drinks over in a minute. They head towards Mitch’s usual booth though Sam can hear Tim asking why they haven’t been given a number.

Sam rolls his eyes and sets to work making the coffees, not even jumping when Alyssa sidles up to his side. “You waited to long to make a move Sam,” She teases him, eyes wide as if with shock, “Now he’s got a new guy.”

“Pretty sure it’s actually a friend of his brothers,” Sam snorts. Not that it was any of his business who Mitch actually was dating.

“Two aren’t mutually exclusive.” Alyssa crosses her arms over her chest, cocking her hip and resting it against the counter next to him.

“It doesn’t matters either way,” Sam shrugs setting aside the teapot to stew, and getting to work on Mitch’s concoction.

“You don’t have to pretend to be brave.” Alyssa places a hand on his arm, clearly trying not to smirk, “It’s alright to share your heartbreak with me. I care.”

“Fuck off Alyssa,” Sam rolls his eyes, no real heat behind the words.

“Ouch,” She clutches at her heart but thankfully leaves him alone so she can actually wash the tables this time.

Sam rolls his eyes again on principle, as he finishes the drinks. Tim and Mitch are sitting on opposite sides of the table, Mitch in Sam’s usual spot and Tim in Mitch’s, with a piece of paper on the table between them seemingly deep in conversation. 

As Sam approaches the table he catches the tail end of Tim’s sentence. Something about strippers.

“If you hire strippers he actually will kill you this time.” Mitch retorts, crossing off something Tim has just written on the piece of paper between them, “Properly kill you. Do you want that?”

“He wouldn’t, he loves me too much.” Tim waves off airily with the self absorbed confidence of some that thinks the whole world loves them, “So strippers it is.”

“Your funeral mate,” Mitch rubs his eyes in an exasperate way, leaning back against the booth. Huh, maybe this is what Sam and Mitch look like to an outsider.

“Here you go guys,” Sam thinks this is the perfect time to interrupt them. “For you,” He places Mitch’s drink in front of him, receiving a grateful smile when Sam doesn’t actually say what it is, “And Green Tea for you.” He takes a curious glance at the piece of paper, able to make out the word surprise written in capitals in the middle of the page. Everything else is just a mess.

“Thanks,” Tim smiles up at Sam in a way that’s probably meant to be charming but just makes Sam feel uncomfortable.

“No problem, lemme know if there’s anything else you need.” He says before turning on his heel and walking back towards the counter. He does hear Tim saying something along the lines of, “you never told me he was cute!” To Mitch. He’d rather he hadn’t.

Unsurprisingly Alyssa has given up on table wiping again and is waiting for him behind the counter. “What are they up to?”

“Pretty sure they’re planning the surprise murder of a stripper,” Sam tells her with a little shrugs, stretching his arms above his head, “Or they’re planning to hire a stripper to murder someone.”

Alyssa shoots him a look, “You are so weird.” Before walking away muttering something about a perfect match.

Sam grins

+++

When Sam gets into work, with full intentions of quizzing Mitch about Tim, on Tuesday afternoon he’s surprised to find Mitch is already sitting in his usual spot, surrounded with piles of books that look to be double the usual size. He’s frowning, seemingly deep in concentration so Sam doesn’t bother him, instead clocking in and making his way to his spot behind the register to greet Holly.

“What’s up with your boy?” She asks him before he’s even managed to tie his apron around his waste in lieu of greeting him.

“Hello to you too Holly, Not my boy, I have no idea.” Sam rattles off with a sigh, looking over to where Ashton is wiping tables, bopping his head and shaking his hips to a song no one else can hear. Not making such a big deal anymore about Alyssa and Holly calling Mitch his boy probably only encourages them but he’s tired of arguing with them.

“He’s been there practically since opening this morning,” Holly whispers. As if Mitch can hear them from across the room with his ever present ear buds firmly in place. “Ashton’s made him at least 8 of those awful drinks. I’ve lost count.”

“Ashton has huh?” Sam asks, wondering if Mitch noticed the difference.

“Yeah. He insisted on it,” Holly’s wearing that expression that means she thinks she’s surrounded by a group of idiots. It’s an expression Sam can recognise on sight since both her and Alyssa have down to an art form by now. 

“Maybe he was trying to be nice,” Sam suggests cheekily knowing that no one on the planet would believe that, “Since you always moan about having to make cold drinks.”

Holly frowns at him. “Go figure out what’s wrong with your boy before I pour a cold drink down your shirt.” She orders. Sam doesn’t doubt she’d do it, he had seen her do it once before to Phil. Phil doesn’t work at the cafe anymore.

“Not my boy,” Sam tells her even as he goes to do what she told him to. 

Mitch looks up completely startled when Sam taps him on the shoulder, something Sam hasn’t been able to do to him for the past few weeks. 

“What you up to mate?” Sam asks as Mitch removes one of his headphones to give Sam his full attention. 

“Baking a cake.” Is the snarky reply he gets. Sam raises an eyebrow, more than willing to wait Mitch out for a proper response. Mitch sighs, “Studying.” 

Sam isn’t sure whether Mitch is being vague on purpose or is so stressed his brain has reverted to simple answers. “Studying for what?” Sam prods as he takes his seat. Mitch doesn’t have his laptop open, for once, and there are pages of hand written notes strewn amongst his piles of books. There’s usually a sense of organised chaos when Mitch studies. This is just a mess.

“Got that test on the reactivity of metals in,” Mitch glances down at his watch, “Just over an hour.”

The apparent panic is both warranted and unwarranted then, “What’s with the last minute cram session. You know all this.” He doesn’t want to put added pressure on Mitch by telling him he’ll ace it. Sam’s pretty sure he will ace it though.

“Of course I do. I know everything.” Mitch’s usual joking arrogance is all bluster. It’s not a very convincing comeback either.

“Alright then know it all,” Sam smirks, issuing a challenge, “If you’re so clever how bout you explain CHEMISTRY THING to me then.”

Mitch frowns like he knows what Sam is doing, but clearly the lure of a challenge is too much for him because he straightens his shoulder before launching into an almost perfect explanation. Sam keeps quizzing Mitch for the next 50 minutes, unsurprised when Mitch knows the answer to pretty much every question, before Mitch looks like he’s about to have an aneurism when he looks down at his watch, 

“The test starts in 15 minutes,” He gulps, starting to hap hazardously shove his stuff into his bag with despair, “I’m going to be late.”

“Hey,” Sam reaches over the table and grabs his arm, “Go. I’ll clean this up and you can come and collect it after the test.”

“Really? Are you sure?” Even as Mitch asks he’s leaving the books and zipping his backpack up.

“Cleaning up after messy customers is my job,” Sam quips, starting to stack the pieces of paper into orderly piles, straightening out the bent edges. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Thanks Sam,” Mitch smiles at him as he hoists his bag over his shoulder, rushing from the shop before Sam has a chance to say anything else. Instead he rolls his eyes as Mitch almost bowls over a couple outside the cafe doors in his haste, stacking the books and papers in neat piles but leaving them on the table. It’s late in the afternoon and most regulars know to leave Mitch’s spot alone by now.

“You’re really good to your boy,” Holly smiles softly at him when he takes up his spot behind the register to actually start working for the day. It’s a good thing none of his co-workers have dobbed him into Ian yet, “I hope he deserves you.”

“Not my boy.” Sam sighs. 

Maybe he should be the one dumping a drink down Holly’s shirt.

+++

Sam is neatening up the magazine’s and newspapers that they keep by the futon for customers waiting for takeaway drinks on Friday afternoon when Mitch barrels through the door, waving a piece of paper frantically in the air, manic grin plastered on his face.

Sam barely has time to straighten up properly before Mitch is launching himself at Sam for a hug. “Did you miss me that much mate?” Sam asks, returning the hug when he realises that Mitch isn’t planning on letting go. He pointedly ignores Alyssa’s gaze.

“I passed,” Mitch is practically yelling in Sam’s ear. He looks se excited and proud that Sam doesn’t really mind.

“Of course you passed,” Sam grins not entirely sure what Mitch passed but having a pretty good idea, “Let me see then.” He laughs grabbing for the test paper that Mitch is still waving around once he let’s go of him.

He finally manages to pry the thing out of Mitch’s grips and flips it over looking for the mark. Ashton and Alyssa are standing behind the counter trying their hardest to hide the fact they’re so obviously eavesdropping. “82%,” Sam reads the mark, grin spreading across his face to match Mitch’s, “Mitch that’s a HD.”

“Yeah,” Mitch nods in a way that’s a little shy. Sam can’t help hugging him briefly again as Alyssa and Ashton break out in applause. Alyssa even whistles.

“I told you that you could do it,” Sam isn’t going to turn this into an I told you so moment because it’s not about him. He’ll remember it for the future though.

“Yeah,” Is all Mitch says, smiling at him in a way that’s almost shy. If Mitch could do shy.

“Congratulatory drinks are on the house,” Alyssa yells drawing interested stares from the few customers in the shop, “Not for you,” she dismisses them with a flippant wave of her hand, “Only for customers we actually like.” Sam’s pretty sure if him or Ashton had done it Ian would have found out and fired them. Alyssa is safe.

“I actually have another class,” Mitch shrugs sheepishly, tugging on the strap of his backpack as if to pull it up his shoulder even though it’s sitting exactly where it should me.

“Just had to drop in and tell Sammy as soon as you found out then?” Alyssa asks with cheeky grin. Sam would very much like to drop a bottle of milk on her head.

Mitch either doesn’t understand her implications or is choosing to ignore them because he shrugs again, “Well it is all down to him that I passed.”

“Don’t sell yourself short man,” Sam bumps Mitch’s shoulder playfully. It’s not like he was the one that sent the test, “But let me let you in on a little secret. Take-away drinks are a thing.”

“Yeah, right, okay.” Sam has no clue what’s up with Mitch. The shock of acing a Chemistry test clearly has a profound effect on him.

“What was you poison of choice then?” Alyssa asks from her position behind the coffee machine, “Something that’s probably going to give you 500 cavities and diabetes before your 20th birthday right?”

“I’m already 20,” Mitch shoots back deadpan, “You should probably get a refund for those dud psychic classes.” Ashton snorts a laugh into his hand from where he’s standing behind the register. Sam rolls his eyes, a common gesture in this place.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it.” Sam tells Alyssa, cutting them off before they get into a snark battle. Mitch would be annihilated. 

“Should I remind you I’ve been working here longer than you have?” Alyssa’s eyes narrow dangerously on him as he makes his way around the bar.

“Should I remind you I actually know what his order is,” Sam stops in front of her, looking down at her as she glares at him. The glare’s still one of the most intimidating things Sam has seen in his life but there’s a reason he’s not going to back down on this one. Judging from the way Ashton is smirking at him, he’s figured it out.

Alyssa continues to glare for another couple of seconds before breaking into a sunny smile that’s more terrifying than the glare “Fine, if you want to be the one to make your boyfriend his drink who am I to stop you?” she says stepping aside for him.

The way Sam shoots her down with a quick, “Not my boyfriend,” has pretty much become so routine by now he doesn’t even think about. The way Mitch is looking at him suggests it’s not routine for him. It should be since it’s not like Alyssa attempts to be subtle.

“Didn’t you only sit that test on Tuesday?” Ashton distracts Mitch by asking as Sam starts to make the drink. Ashton’s not so bad all the time Sam decides.

“Yeah,” Mitch looks surprised that Ashton remembers. The way he’d been freaking out about it on Tuesday, it would be hard to forget. Especially so quickly.

“And you’ve got it back already?” Ashton whistles, cocking his eyebrow, “I mean I know uni policy is fast marking but that’s ridiculous.”

“I guess he was making up for the fact it took like 3 weeks to get the last one back,” Mitch rationalizes from where he’s still awkwardly hanging around the doorway. A familiar looking blonde girl shoots him a glare as she has to walk around him to get into the cafe, which is slightly harsh in Sam’s opinion.

Alyssa watches with narrowed eyes as Sam pours the final layer of syrup into the cup with narrowed eyes. She opens her mouth as if to say something so Sam cuts her off before she can spill just in case she’s had a lightbulb moment, ““At least you don’t have to spend every hour of the next three weeks stressing about this one then.”

“I knew I was going to do well, with you as my teacher.” Mitch boasts. Judging by the way he’d acted on Tuesday Sam isn’t sure that’s an entirely accurate statement. He choses not to make a comment on it though just fits the lid onto the cup and slides it across the counter so Mitch can collect it, “Here you go mate. Don’t want to be late to your class.”

“Thanks again.” Mitch smiles at Sam as he steps forward to grab his drink, “Without you I wouldn’t have passed.”

That’s probably not something Sam can argue with because he did push Mitch in the right direction but in the end it was all down to Mitch. “You can thank me later.”

“Okay,” Mitch’s smile brightens, as if he’d been waiting for Sam to say something like that, “We’ll go out for drinks. On me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sam says trying to ignore the way Alyssa is obnoxiously snickers behind him. He’ll get her back for this later. As soon as Mitch leaves.

“The only proper way to celebrate is getting smashed mate, it’s a Marsh family tradition.” Mitch tells him firmly. Marsh. Huh. Mitch Marsh, Sam’s known Mitch for almost 2 months now and he finally has a last name. At least he assumes the Marsh family includes Mitch. “And it’s practically your mark as not as mine.”

“It’s not my mark Mitch,” Sam rolls his eyes wondering how often they’re going to be having this argument. Perhaps threatening to stop helping Mitch if he mentions it again will work.

“Practically your mark.” Mitch repeats with a cheeky wink before checking his watch and frowning, “Right I’ve really got to run. But we’re going out for drinks soon!” He points a finger threateningly at Sam before literally running out the door. What a nutter.

“He asked you on a date Sammy,” Alyssa crows, crowding right up in his personal space as soon as Mitch is out of sight, drawing strange looks from the blonde girl who’s now placing her order with Ashton.

“It’s not a date Lyss,” Sam tells her, stepping away so he can get his personal space back. 

“Sounds like a date to me,” She grins at him. Like a predator. “Going out together. For drinks. Drunken hookups and feelings and before you know it you’re dating.” Alyssa really is a hopeless romantic, no matter how much she tries to deny it.

Sam laughs at her as Ashton shoots them a look, sliding the blonde girls order down the counter towards them, “He’s not going to remember he asked.”


End file.
